I shall never forget the harrowing events of the last couple days. The bright red flames licking the sky and the billowing smoke coming from the Kite. The appearance of Khorramzadeh, Storm King of the Worldwound, struck such a gripping, overwhelming terror into my heart that I shan't soon forget. The vision of him standing over Terendelev's body, cleaving her head from her body is one that shall forever be ingrained in my memory. Why did she save us? What did she see in novice fighters such as us?
There weren't many survivors. My brother and I. Thank the gods Valen survived. I know not what I would do without him.
The warrior mage. He's a stoic type. Doesn't say much. No real allegiances that I can tell, but he has a goodly and just nature. I think I trust him.
The fighter. He says even less than the warrior mage, but immensely skilled. I can't get a good read on him, but I could see him and my brother becoming friends. Any friend of my brother is a friend of mine.
And then there's Oxbellows, cleric of Iomedae. A bit…uncouth, some might think him brash, but I like him. He speaks his mind. Moreover, he saved my life, so I owe him a debt of gratitude.
I am grateful that I find myself in this situation with such capable allies for there are those that survived that are less capable. Anevia may be a capable fighter, but not in her current state. Her leg was crushed by a boulder severely hampering her mobility. She is lovelorn. You can see in her eyes she misses her wife, Irabeth. I hope that after the chaos of the attack above we emerge to find her still living. Aravashnial may be suffering the most. He took a wicked blow from the whip of the balor king that stole his sight, most likely forever. I cannot imagine the anguish he must be feeling. He is desperately grasping for any control he can find. I do not mind including him in our decisions. Blind or not, he possesses great wisdom. It is tempting to say that Horgus is utterly worthless, but that would be unfair. A businessman by trade, he must be terrified. I do not begrudge that he is not a warrior. The world needs those, too. Trying though he may be, I think there is more to him than meets the eye. I think deep down he is good. Time will tell.
Our journey through the caves and sewers forgotten by the city proper have been eventful. A great many denizens inhabit these darkened depths, but none that have proven to be too much for us. The going has been slow having to ensure the maimed and blind are able to keep up. Anxious though I am to make to the surface, I would not leave anyone behind.
Our first real threat came in the form of a crazy wizard. My brother showed his prowess with any weapon against him and neutralized the crazed wizard with one mighty blow of his warhammer.
We found our way to an encampment of "mongrelmen." Men and women twisted byt the blight of the Worldwound. It was difficult not to stare, but I believe them to be noble men. They have pledged their support against the chaos. I will do all I can to ensure that they are accepted as equals in the fight above. This I promise.
We have one last obstacle to overcome before we reach the surface – another tribe of "mongrelmen." More evil in nature than the men of Neatholm. They block our path to the surface. In the morning, they shall let us pass or they shall feel the wrath of the goddess…